Elven Wine
by tiswillard
Summary: Sam/Frodo slash.


Title: Elven Wine

Author: wilchel

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Medium: fan fiction

Pairing: Frodo/Sam

Characters: Frodo, Sam, some mentions of other people.

Rating: PG, actually!

Word Count: 3950

Author's Notes: I think I started writing this in May or something and just now got around to putting the final touches on it. Also, not my usual writing style, but I enjoy it. :)

The more Frodo showed Sam to his bed, the more it made sense to the both of them how dangerous this was. What 'this' was still had yet to obtain a definition, or even a term to be defined. The truth was, ever since the words 'Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee,' had been quoted as some sort of makeshift excuse (well, to stay with him - as Gandalf had really spoke those very words, hobbit's honour, Sam swore), they'd known that it was dangerous. But while trudging to and through the depths of Mordor with only a creature who may-or-may-not-have-been a hobbit (or something similar) at one time, many years ago, secrecy wasn't as prominent a factor of their lust; more or less meaning, they'd just pretended that they'd never landed themselves back in The Shire, where they'd have to worry about people judging their - sexuality, or just sexual tendencies towards each other? Gollum was never exactly in the place to judge them for any acts of fornication performed, and the one time he did judge them, he was taught his lesson, as it was the only time Frodo did not berate Sam for physically and verbally abusing the creature. As it was, Mr. Frodo was Smeagol's friend, so he'd just learned to keep his mouth shut.

So once they had returned to The Shire, or in general, among the better population of anyone at all in Middle Earth, they'd spoken a few words of... discontinuing their 'relationship', if it could even be defined as that. Somehow, they had managed to go a total of four whole days without much interactivity, before Sam had appeared on Frodo's doorstep with a guilty smile and a bottle of Elven wine.

"Your garden looked lonely, Mr. Frodo," the gardener had used as an excuse. "Aye, you've been neglecting to tend to it since our return, sir - and you know Samwise Gamgee, never standing to see a poorly-attended-to garden."

"Go ahead, Sam," Frodo had laughed. "You're quite the gardener compared to me. But what of the wine, may I pray tell?"

"Oh!" Sam exclaimed, the lightish pink that was already in his cheeks rising to his ears. "Housewarming gift. Welcome back to Hobbiton, Mr. Frodo."

"My thanks!" Frodo smiled, laughter ringing again. "I should say the same to you, Samwise. Have at it with the garden. I'll make us a meal, and you could sample some of the wine you gifted me with."

"Aye! Sounds wonderful, Mr. Frodo, sir," Sam said, a smile growing with the color in his cheeks. So he'd sauntered away, looking over his shoulder twice at the front door of Bag End. Of course, lowering his knees into the soil of the garden, he wasn't nearly as enthusiastic about working in the garden as he was, er, 'working' inside of Frodo's home - although that was a bit too presumptuous of the hobbit, wouldn't you say? Just at the thought of it, his face grew to an even darker shade of red, if even possible.

He picked one weed, then another, and another. At first, his heart wasn't in any of it, as it had been so long since Sam had even stepped into a garden he would dare stop and work in. But slowly, he regained his passion for gardening, there within view of the kitchen window in Bag End.

Which is, of course, where Frodo stood more watching Sam than making any quick decisions about what food to make. Of course, being hobbits, the two of them wouldn't be be too picky about what the food was - in the end, it was food! Regarding _other_ food - or _guests_, Frodo berated himself, forcing himself to remember his agreement with Sam just four days prior - an agreement they must both abide by, for they weren't... alone any longer, or, um, involved. That was the truth of it, Frodo feared, and forced himself to tear his eyes from Sam's back and to at least peel some potatoes and fill the tea kettle with some water - suddenly, he felt as if the strong Elven wine wasn't such a great idea, on either of their parts. Still, he found himself wondering, did Sam find himself as torn about the whole 'no more' thing - or was that just Frodo? If Sam was as torn up about it, then wouldn't it not be nearly as bad if they just threw all common sense out the window and were themselves? But then again, had they been... being themselves on the road to Mordor, or just two needy hobbits driven to each other by the force of loneliness and fear?

"Stop it, Frodo Baggins." Saying it aloud seemed right at the time, but he looked up to make sure that Sam hadn't heard him talking to himself through the window. Sam stayed intrigued with his gardening, however, and Frodo let out a sigh of relief. This time, his mind was turned to the potato peeling and he refused to let himself think of anything else.

It had been well over an hour once Frodo had finally successfully put together their meal. Actually, it was most elegant, he noted, as he poured a glass of wine for Sam - the tea that he had preferred long forgotten. Admittedly, he had gone overboard with the cooking, looking to impress Sam. In the end, it wouldn't have mattered though, as Sam was always most pleased with anything Frodo did. For a moment, Frodo stood, only examining the food he had made for the two of them. Not only had he gone overboard in making the food - but he'd gone overboard in the quantity also. That wasn't something that every hobbit could admit! Either way, Sam was waiting for the food, no doubt - at this point, the poor hobbit must be starved!

Practically running to the front door, Frodo found himself excited by the idea of being holed up inside his smial, with Sam -

These exact words had just passed through his mind as Sam came into view, so he had no time to think about the meaning of them. They would pass over his consciousness in due time, of course, but now he was busy calling Sam to him.

Samwise Gamgee had his shirtsleeves rolled up just under to his elbow joint, dirt caked under his fingernails and into his calloused hands. Every now and then, he would use his forearm to wipe the sweat off his forehead, or just a stray piece of hair. Unbeknown to him, a speck - well, it was certainly more than a speck of dirt - so, a _large amount_ of dirt sat on his left cheek. He turned around at Frodo's voice, his mouth opened a little - he'd almost forgotten where he was!

"Sam, I've got food on the table!" Frodo was saying as Sam turned around. Frodo laughed, although Sam did not know why. However, he couldn't keep his eyes from shining at the mention of food. He was famished, as he'd neglected to eat before he'd come to Frodo's bearing the best bottle of Elven wine he had picked up on their journey back to Hobbiton. His mind had been so wrapped up around things - Frodo, mainly, but there were other things too. (What to wear? Do I smell alright? Is my hair okay?)

"Great!" Sam exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "I'm starved!"

Frodo's laughing still rich in the air, he stopped Sam before he could take another step. "Hold on." Stepping closer to Sam, he felt the closeness to the other hobbit that he hadn't felt in - well, a while. Frodo placed his left hand on the clean side of his face. Using his right palm to wipe off most of the dirt, although he succeeded in mainly smearing the smudge on his face, rather than cleaning it off. His smile growing, he placed his right thumb in his mouth, the left hand still lingering thoughtlessly on Sam's face. Frodo used his saliva-moistened thumb to finally get any of the dirt off of Sam's face. Sam, still not aware of the dirt, stared directly into Frodo's eyes - something he could only do at the moment because Frodo's eyes were directed towards the dirty spot on Sam's face, as opposed to his own eyes. Again, Frodo put his thumb in his mouth. Frodo tasted the sweat from Sam's face - the salty taste in his mouth causing a little 'gnh...' as his heart started beating rapidly as it suddenly dawned on him what he was doing. As quickly as he could, he'd rubbed off the rest of the dirt - in such a hurry that he stepped away, leaving a little red mark where his thumb had been rubbing.

"What, Mr. Frodo...?" Sam said, speechless, wondering if that was supposed to be some form of... affection.

"Oh, sorry," Frodo laughed, the tension breaking quickly, although there was color rising in his cheeks.. "You had a bit of dirt of your face, is all, Sam."

"Aye, Mr. Frodo!" Sam laughed, although disappointed, somewhere inside, that it had, in fact, not been a sign of affection. "What did you expect? I was working in a garden, after all."

"Oh, never mind you, Sam. Give me a break, I thought it was cu - " _Cute?_ The word finished itself automatically in both of their minds, Frodo wondering where that had come from, Sam wondering if he'd just been imagining things. "Come, Sam," Frodo said in an undertone quickly, trying to cover up his... slip-up, he supposed he could call it. "We wouldn't want the food getting cold, now, would we?" Frodo began to walk quickly towards his front door.

"Of course not," Sam said quietly, walking just behind Frodo. Their short walk was spent in silence, both of them deep inside their thoughts which were mainly about - each other, actually.

"You may use the bathroom if you'd like to get cleaned up beforehand, Samwise," Frodo managed to say as they stepped through the front door. Sam offerred a hurried thank you and rushed himself off, wanting desperately to regain his composure before he faced Frodo again - nearly the same exact thing running through Frodo's mind.

Frodo watched as Sam hurried down the hallway, and if he hadn't otherwise been mortified over the words and actions shared just outside his home only moments before, he would have smiled, realizing that Sam still remembered his way around the smial. They couldn't have been away from The Shire for _that_ long, have it as it was. Instead, the thought briefly crossed his mind. The corners of his mouth started forming a smile, but only so he was just mentally aware of it - as his lips barely left the straight line they seemed to be set in. Unable to move his feet, he simply stood in the open doorway, watching as Sam disappeared down the hallway and then some. Slowly but surely, his mortified state of mind ceased and he turned to shut his door. Stepping on his heel, he made his way towards the kitchen, and sat down at the chair facing away from the doorway. He looked at the table again, feeling like he had _really_ outdone himself. Without thinking, he lifted his glass of wine and put it to his lips, taking only a very small sip, but feeling as if the liquor was needed to soothe his nerves.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Sam stood at the sink, scrubbing at his dirt-coated arms until they felt raw. Drying his hands, he stood, staring at himself in the mirror. His cheek was no longer red where Frodo had rubbed the dirt off, but he knew where it had been. Gingerly, he'd placed his finger on the spot where Frodo's thumb had been just moments before. However, the more and more he stared at himself in the mirror like this, the more he felt foolish. Willing his arm down, he hugged it to his side, stepping back to examine his appearance. For some reason, he found himself incredibly bothered by his hair - this part had a more distinct curl to it than this part, this strand just looks simply out of place, et cetera, et cetera. Sam had never felt so foolish before in his life. He looked fine - just the same as he had ever been. Besides - Frodo had put up with his appearance for how many months on the road to Mordor, without having him know what his hair had looked like, and not to mention the amount of dirt that had been on his face _then_.

(Frodo had never bothered to clean it off then, however - )

"Samwise Gamgee, hold yourself together, you silly hobbit," he mumbled to himself, smoothing down his shirt just one more time over his chest. He closed his eyes as he turned from the mirror, knowing he would otherwise find a reason to continue grooming himself in the mirror. He made his way to the kitchen, following the sound of Frodo's humming, although he remembered where the dining room was - he wasn't so far gone as that. Sam knew Bag End like the back of his hand. He probably knew it better than his own home, at that.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked quietly, standing in the doorway, taking in a deep breath through his nose. Frodo snapped up, as he seemed to have been leaning over his lap, a deep red color in his face, although he seemed altogether composed now. Sam, however, had not noticed any lack of composure in the events that had occurred just prior to now, as he was too distracted trying to hide his own embarrassment. All he was aware of was how Frodo was smiling at him, his face a lttle redder than normal.

"Hi, Sam! Sit! Sit!" Frodo urged, gesturing towards the adjacent chair.

"Smells excellent," Sam mumbled as he lowered himself into the chair. He glanced at everything on the table, feeling a little bit taken aback, not knowing exactly where to start here.

"Thank you," Frodo replied. "I'm afraid I have made a bit too much food, however. I guess I just lost track of... how many would be dining with me while I was cooking."

"In case you have forgotten, Mr. Frodo, we're hobbits," Sam said with a wink, forgetting all insecurities. "I think we can handle this."

"I was hoping you'd say that, Sam," Frodo grinned. They dug in, small talk following, although it felt natural. In spite of everything they'd gone through these past few months, they could still sit here and converse about pointless little things without a care in the world. It took them a while to lose track of things to talk about, however, and they spent a few minutes eating in silence the last few bits of food left on their plates when Frodo's foot pushed against Sam's under the table as Sam took a sip of his wine. The taste was strong, but sweet. However, it kept them both from drinking too much, which was more or less a good thing. Frodo had offered to serve the tea he had been planning on making earlier, but Sam insisted that they drink the wine that he'd brought, although they'd hardly drank anything.

Regardless, as Sam felt toes tickle his own, he accidentally spit out the wine he'd had in his mouth. Had Frodo done it on purpose?

"Oh, are you okay!?" Frodo had exclaimed, standing up, pulling his foot away from Sam's.

"Sorry, I'm fine," Sam replied sheepishly, keeping his eyes down. He was afraid that Frodo would ask him what had caused it, but Frodo kept his mouth shut, leaving Sam grateful.

Few more words were exchanged before Sam noted the time and suggested he should get going. He'd come here with the intent of inquiring upon the validity of their 'termination of relationship', but after the accidental second-long game of footsie, Sam couldn't find himself audacious enough to bring up the topic. Frodo seemed disappointed when Sam suggested that he left soon, and Sam hoped Frodo hadn't noted the pleasure in his face when he'd realized it meant that Frodo wanted him to stay. It must have meant something, of course?

"Would you be wanting your wine back, Sam?" Frodo asked as they stood in the doorway, Sam preparing to leave.

"No!" Sam retorted, shaking his head. "Remember, a housewarming gift. It's yours."

"But - it's so..."

"So what?" Sam urged.

"I don't know. Thank you, Sam," Frodo said, embracing the other hobbit. "For the housewarming gift, and for visiting me."

Sam tentatively wrapped his arms Frodo also, unsure of what to make of this. "You're welcome, Mr. Frodo. I'll come visit you again, soon!"

At that, Sam turned around. He placed his hand on the doorknob, and a current - like nothing he could explain - of nerve ran through his body. He stopped, feeling Frodo's eyes on his back, but he turned to face him again.

"I'm probably going to regret this," Sam began, trailing off. Frodo stared at him, his eyes quizzical. Sam took Frodo's hands in his own, and looked down at them, his nerve lost for a moment. He couldn't back out now without seeming silly, could he? He willed himself to look up again, Frodo's eyes still searching for an answer. Sam closed his eyes for a moment, and then took his hands out of Frodo's again. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to do nothing but stare at Frodo, but he instead put his right hand on Frodo's cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over the skin. Frodo's eyes glowed, suddenly knowing what to expect, but he himself was unable to move. Sam took his free hand, moving a piece of hair out of Frodo's eyes, and then wrapping it around Frodo's waist, holding them closer. Sam's eyes seemed to ask if this was okay, and Frodo's wide, gleaming eyes failed to give an answer. Sam took his chances, in the end, lifting Frodo's face so it was at an easier angle for him to bring their faces closer. The space was unbearable now, their eyes staring, a completely different energy coming from either of them that they had never felt when they were 'together' before this. Frodo's eyes fluttered closed, and Sam took this as a sign to close his own, placing a kiss on Frodo's lips. It was tentative, and Frodo didn't kiss back. Another kiss, and this time, Frodo did. Nothing really evolved out of the kiss, the both of them too nervous to allow themselves to further anymore. They pulled away, their eyes still unable to look at anything else.

Sam was waiting for Frodo to say something; anything! When he didn't, Sam couldn't help but hang his head. "I'm sorry, that was - "

Frodo had kissed him again, keeping Sam from finishing the sentence. This kiss lingered, Frodo finally taking the initiative to wrap his arms around Sam. One arm hooked at his shoulder, the other wrapped around his lower back. Sam pulled away this time, surprised. It was now his turn to be unsure of what was going on.

"That was exactly what I needed you to do," Frodo said in a hushed tone.

"But Mr. Frodo, I thought we weren't - " Sam stopped, feeling like a hypocrite, for he had been the one who had kissed Frodo in the first place. "I mean, I thought you were going to yell at me for that, or... or, well, I don't know."

"I don't know, either," Frodo admitted, biting his lip. Sam's hands suddenly felt like they were in all the wrong places. He hung his head and pulled away, not looking up to see Frodo's smile fall. "I know I said that I... I wanted to stop _this_, Sam, but these last few days have made me think otherwise. I - is that wrong?"

"No," Sam whispered. And then, after reconsidering, "rather, it probably is wrong, or most hobbits would think it wrong. But I don't," Sam replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'm glad," Frodo replied quite lamely, no better words coming to mind. His body language spoke better than his words, regardless, his forefinger pushing Sam's chin upwards. It was awkward, but in another sense, it was completely right. Sam's dilated pupils leveled with Frodo's, but all they otherwise seemed physically capable of doing was intertwining fingers. Their hands clashed, unsure, sweaty, but wonderfully, and almost reminiscingly. Their intimacy had always been like that; there, but not so lustful as most intimacy should or would be.

"This is okay, then?" Sam finally managed to ask, placing a light kiss on the corner of Frodo's mouth.

"This is okay," Frodo reassured.

"This is okay," Sam breathed, as if it seemed unbelievable to him. In a sense, it was.

"You're surprised," Frodo observed, tracing Sam's jawline with the tips of his fingers. "Which is surprising to me, because you _obviously_ came over here to discuss whatever this is, rather than just bear me with a housewarming gift. Where did you get that idea, anyway, Samwise?"

Sam grinned. "I didn't imagine it would be quite this easy, Mr. Frodo," he managed to admit, smoothing down the fabric of Frodo's shirt. "As for the housewarming gift, that idea of mine was pretty clever of me, don't you think?"

Frodo laughed, placing his hand over Sam's; the hand fussing with his shirt. "No, not very clever." He pressed a kiss to Sam's cheek, enjoying the embrace he'd grown so used to over the past - well, years, it had seemed. "You're not still planning on leaving, are you?"

"Not unless you want me to," Sam replied. When Frodo didn't answer immediately, he bit his lip. Frodo chuckled, tugging at the sleeve of Sam's jacket.

"Take your coat off, Sam. You won't be needing it," Frodo insisted, much to Sam's delight. He shrugged out of the jacket, placing it back on the hook at the door. Frodo grinned, taking hold of Sam's wrist as he led him down the hall, to his own bedroom. Sam tripped over his own feet to keep at pace with Frodo, his own excitement rendering his feet practically useless, while, on the other hand, Frodo's feet were running at a speed Sam couldn't catch up to. Laughter rang from Sam's mouth, him begging Frodo to slow down a little bit. Eventually, they were bending over in stitches of laughter in Frodo's bedroom, something seeming much funnier than it actually was.

"Why are we laughing, Sam?" Frodo managed to ask between chuckles.

"I'm not sure," Sam replied, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. Their hands stil within grasp of each other, Sam took hold of Frodo's elbows and pulled him closer. The gap was closed between them; the gap that most likely should have never been there in the first place.

Frodo had been asleep for at least fifteen minutes, Sam figured. His chest rising steadily, Sam kept his hand above Frodo's heart, just to make sure it was still beating. It wasn't exactly something he needed to do anymore, but it was out of habbit that he did it. Besides, it was always reassuring to realize they'd made it through all that, and yet _here they were_. Never could have Sam imagined this would happen.

"You're a hard hobbit to break, Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered, the words out of his mouth before he'd completely realized what he'd said.

"...'m not quite 'sleep yeh, Sammie," Frodo murmured, though the amusement was more apparent than the sleepiness. Sam just smiled as Frodo rolled onto his side and wrapped his arm around Sam, keeping them close.

"Goodnight, Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered, pressing his lips to Frodo's sweating forehead.

"G'night, Samwise," Frodo said, louder than probably intended. Nevertheless, Sam's eyes could shut in contentment.


End file.
